


rainwater

by LuvEwan



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, M/M, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Qui-Gon Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27393235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuvEwan/pseuds/LuvEwan
Summary: "It was something of a tradition for Obi-Wan to visit with Qui-Gon whenever he was at the Temple. Nearly two years had passed since Obi-Wan’s knighting, yet Qui-Gon struggled with the new definition of their relationship. He especially chafed at the distance, but he understood the life of a new Knight was hectic, and seldom allowed the time or space for correspondence with old teachers."Qui-Gon shares tea with Knight Kenobi, who has made a rare return to Coruscant between missions.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 37
Kudos: 144





	1. Chapter 1

……..

I miss old things  
even when I am only waiting for them  
to become something new 

……..

1\. old things

When it began to rain, Qui-Gon left a glass jar on the balcony to collect the water. For Coruscant, the rain was unusually earnest, coming on suddenly in the late afternoon and still soaking the streets outside the Jedi Temple a few hours later. 

He enjoyed the rare percussion against the roof while he sat inside his apartment. Qui-Gon was reminded of other places he had traveled, where the weather was always unpredictable and therefore wonderful. 

Much as life. Obi-Wan was not meant to be back on Coruscant for several more weeks, but yesterday his former apprentice sent him a brief, typed message--

_Back tomorrow. Hope to see you. Obi-Wan._

\--and Qui-Gon found himself pleased by the early return. Anakin was attending a training excursion on Chandrila with other Padawans. Qui-Gon would not admit to being lonely; if anything he was enjoying the break, thankful the Council declined to assign him a solo mission during the boy’s absence. And Anakin craved the comradery of his peers, though he avoided saying so. 

It was something of a tradition for Obi-Wan to visit with Qui-Gon whenever he was at the Temple. Nearly two years had passed since Obi-Wan’s knighting, yet Qui-Gon struggled with the new definition of their relationship. He especially chafed at the distance, but he understood the life of a new Knight was hectic, and seldom allowed the time or space for correspondence with old teachers. 

So he had written back promptly--

_I look forward to catching up, Obi-Wan. Evening tea once you are settled? QGJ._

\--to which Obi-Wan had still not answered. This was typical for Obi-Wan, however, and Qui-Gon stayed in his rooms once the sun set and the rain came. Obi-Wan was not the sort of guest Qui-Gon felt the need to tidy up for; indeed, he did not consider Obi-Wan a guest at all. 

Though he had not lived in these quarters for two years, Obi-Wan’s presence lingered, in the sitting area where they spent nights in companionable silence, Obi-Wan studying and Qui-Gon drafting reports, in the kitchen (though neither of them enjoyed cooking), in the small bedroom that Obi-Wan had meticulously kept, now overtaken by droid parts and Anakin’s endless mechanical projects. 

Once Qui-Gon might have been able to sense Obi-Wan in the Temple, but that connection was diminished by inevitable neglect. And Obi-Wan shielded more, Qui-Gon noticed, the way he would notice if Obi-Wan changed his hair or developed an intolerance to muja fruit. Qui-Gon did not make a habit of assigning meaning to meaningless things. 

Eventually he changed into his night clothes and went searching through his shelves for a text he’d been meaning to reread. He left a light on, in the doorway and in his head, for Obi-Wan. 

_Experiences of Prescience_ , a somewhat controversial tome from the Old Republic. His own Master had passed it along to Qui-Gon years before, after he shared with Dooku his suspicions that Obi-Wan was gifted with foresight. Qui-Gon had found a renewed interest in the subject since the Naboo mission. 

Satisfied, he took the book to his chair. He preferred to serve fresh tea, and decided he could wait to heat the kettle until Obi-Wan arrived. If he did. 

Qui-Gon opened the book. He was asleep within minutes.

……..

A noise at the door surprised him, and Qui-Gon sat up, wiping the corner of his mouth. Blearily, he saw the windows were beaded with the night’s precipitation, and for a moment worried he had mistook the wind for a knock. 

Another distinct rap followed. Qui-Gon stood and waited a moment for his heart to slip back down from his throat. He smoothed his pajamas and tied his robe over them, then answered the door. 

Obi-Wan smiled. “Hello there,” he greeted softly. It was obvious he had not switched out of his mission uniform. His travel rucksack hung over a shoulder and he wore a few days’ worth of scruff. His eyes were bright in the muted dusk of the hallway. He was also drenched. 

Qui-Gon looked him up and down, then shook his head. “Where is my proper Padawan?”

A tired snort. “He was left somewhere on that barbaric filling station on Honoghr, I believe. Haven’t seen him since then.”

Qui-Gon chuckled and took the heavy bag. 

“Oh, thank you,” Obi-Wan sounded surprised, but then, he had always been the one to take care of unpacking, sending clothes off to the laundry and so many other chores to which Qui-Gon devoted little thought. He stood at the threshold to Qui-Gon’s quarters, reaching down to unbuckle his boots. “I wasn’t even thinking,” he muttered, “Just in a rush to get somewhere...ah...somewhere…”

Qui-Gon reached out to steady him. “Dry?”

Obi-Wan glanced up. His hair was plastered against the side of his face. “Comfortable,” he said, “and thank you. I’m sure you weren’t expecting me to drag my muddy boots all over your quiet evening, though in my defense, it was only dirt on my boots until I stepped off the transport. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen it rain here.”

“Today is a day of infrequent occurrences, it would seem.” Qui-Gon helped him step out of the boots and set them by the door, next to the damp rucksack. Then he stood with his hands on his hips, thinking. “Has it truly been--”

“Seven, nearly eight months.” Obi-Wan supplied, balancing on one foot at a time as he peeled off his socks. The wet made his feet look pale and pinched.

“Take a hot shower. I’ll find you clothes.”

Obi-Wan finally stepped all the way into the apartment. “Yes, Master,” he said.

…..

The sound of the shower was indistinguishable from the rain. Qui-Gon stood at the dresser with the top drawer pulled open. He moved aside some loosely folded tunics and took out a set of cream-colored tunics and a pair of leggings. Obi-Wan had left a few things behind when moving out, at the same time that Anakin was moving in. Qui-Gon could not explain it, but he tucked most of those things away rather than returning them: a uniform, a teacup, some scraps of flimsi with Obi-Wan’s uncharacteristically messy script. 

He left the clothes on his bed and returned to the common room. Obi-Wan would emerge from the attached fresher to see his own clean clothes laid out. What would he think about that? 

Qui-Gon picked up his book again, but he was reading the same passage over and over without absorbing a word, and he closed it in his lap, looking at the rain-streaked window instead.

…..

Obi-Wan came out a few minutes later, dressed and combing fingers through his wet hair. “Thank you. I’m beginning to feel civilized again.”

“Well they are yours. I’ve been meaning to bring them by.”

“Oh no, that’s…” He stopped in front of the couch, as if deciding which of the three cushions was best. He chose the middle, and sat with his legs crossed, bare foot tapping the air. “They came in handy, didn’t they?”

“True. Is this a mission beard or something intentional?”

Obi-Wan stroked the short hairs covering his chin. “Not intentional, although I confess it’s starting to grow on me.”

Qui-Gon’s response was a pained chuckle. 

Obi-Wan grinned, eyes shining. For a moment it felt like old times, the two of them in this room, bad jokes and the comfort that came with long familiarity. 

Except for the durasteel walls Obi-Wan had erected in the Force. Qui-Gon brushed against them then retreated quickly. “I invite you for tea and then don’t make any.”

“That’s alright, Master, I can--”

“No, no,” Qui-Gon waved him off. “You’ve been traveling. I’ve been drooling in my chair. I can make the tea. _Sapir_?”

Obi-Wan relaxed back against the couch. “Yes, please.”

He heard the weary relief in Obi-Wan’s voice. Qui-Gon stood and started for the kitchen, then remembered his jar on the balcony. It was still drizzling; he lifted his cowl around his head and stepped out into the night. The jar was nearly full. The air smelled fresh and cool, and he inhaled deeply before coming back inside. 

Obi-Wan looked confused, as Qui-Gon suspected. He lifted an eyebrow from his place on the couch. 

Qui-Gon pulled down the cowl and wiped a few rain droplets from his beard. “Water for the tea,” he explained. 

“Ah, of course.” Obi-Wan drawled. “If only I had known--you could have squeezed some from my sodden cloak over there.”

“Ha.” Qui-Gon pulled out the tin of _sapir_ leaves and the kettle. His hands lingered on the objects, used daily in their life together. Anakin was young, and had tried tea with his Master only once, swallowing it down with an obvious grimace. Qui-Gon didn’t make proper tea much anymore. Besides, he had never been as good at it as Obi-Wan. He always forgot and left it brewing too long, distracted by something, wandering away at the wrong moment. 

He glanced over at the couch, where Obi-Wan had his head tipped back and his eyes closed. Not asleep, Qui-Gon sensed, but resting. _“Comfortable”_ , as Obi-Wan had said. 

The rain fell calmly. He listened to it, and Obi-Wan’s soft, measured breathing, while he worked.

……..


	2. Chapter 2

……..

2\. waiting

“I think I’ll come back to life soon,” Obi-Wan decided. He took another deep, savoring drink. “That’s very good.”

An overstatement. Qui-Gon smiled. “It is better than my usual attempts, which I attribute completely to the rain water.”

“I can taste the Living Force.”

“It’s good to know your sense of humor has not matured, Knight Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan smiled into his teacup. 

Something about the gesture warmed Qui-Gon, and he found himself studying his former student’s face. Even with his harrowing adventures across the galaxy as a solo Knight, Obi-Wan had never completely shed the boyishness of his face. His fingers remained slender and smooth and unscarred, curled around the steaming cup. _If I squint, he is my Padawan again. Just missing the braid_. He thought bittersweetly, and allowed the reverie to linger while Obi-Wan sat and drank his tea, the clean rain water and the robust sapir that Qui-Gon had made for him. 

“How was the mission?” Qui-Gon asked a few minutes later. He had a feeling there was more to the assignment than an unpleasant detour at a filling station. He remembered his own early Knighthood mishaps--though he had never been as self-possessed and talented as Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan exhaled, setting aside his empty cup on the table. “Oh, the usual. Narrowly avoiding certain death, bad food, no beds. Worse, I was allergic to their prized livestock, which was absolutely everywhere. I doubt I’ll ever get all the fur out of my nose.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. “I remember when you were...when was it….a few years before Naboo, and you ate that dish that was infused with _hoi broth_.”

Obi-Wan let out an exaggerated moan. “I was convinced I would die. To think---the first Jedi felled by a bowl of soup.”

“It would be a memorable exit, at least.” Qui-Gon laughed some more, settling into the grooves of his chair and the conversation. He wanted to stay awake all night like this. “Are you enjoying your time on your own?”

Obi-Wan looked down, thinking. “It’s been different. I confess my first solo mission felt odd. Like you should have been beside me. Or I beside you, rather.” He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, sighing again. “I’m not sure what I’m saying.”

Qui-Gon sat forward, elbows on his knees and hands together. “I understand what you mean. I have gone from one apprentice to another, training to training, yet I feel all the small, important details in my life have changed. As if someone has rearranged the furniture in my head without telling me, and I’m knocking into things constantly.” He paused, surprised by his own words. He had not been a cold teacher, like Dooku, but he had kept the fragile parts of himself separate from Obi-Wan, and they did not share many emotional discussions--a necessary distance among Jedi. 

“I suppose I’ve become accustomed to my solitary existence, but I enjoyed our meditation sessions together.”

Qui-Gon felt his chest tighten. “I did too, Obi-Wan.”  
……..

He dragged the meditation mat from his bedroom to the common room. He liked meditating in the morning, cross-legged with the light from his window warming his shoulders. 

It was less a meditation mat than an old rug, which Qui-Gon had stowed away after a mission to his home planet when he was a young Knight. He had sat with Feemor on this rug, Xanatos, Tahl, Anakin. 

Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan the most, for it had been Obi-Wan who craved the communion with the Force’s soothing energies, who could disappear within the bright, deep endlessness for hours, drinking of the Light and giving his own. 

Obi-Wan smiled when he saw the rug with its worn, familiar stitching. Standing in the dim light from the glow lamps and with Qui-Gon’s eyes completely open, he didn’t seem like a Padawan at all. The lines of his body were sharper, his legs muscular even through the soft trousers. And there was new knowledge in Obi-Wan’s eyes, though Qui-Gon could not pinpoint what kind. 

He lowered his gaze to the rug and rolled it out on the floor.

“Are you certain you don’t want to meditate on the balcony, Master? We could keep our mouths open and collect some more water.”

“I think I’d prefer your mouth closed, Obi-Wan. For a number of reasons.”

Together, they settled on the rug, drawing their feet under them, and closed their eyes. Qui-Gon focused on slowing his breaths, matching the rhythm of his body to the gentle rain, allowing his physical surroundings to fade, fade.

Still he could feel Obi-Wan beside him, so near their knees could have touched. 

Qui-Gon tried to slip into the cadence of the rainfall again, but instead he followed Obi-Wan, breathing with him, in and out.

……..

He heard the wind, and knew not much time had passed, as he floated towards awareness. 

Qui-Gon tasted the lips against his, hummed in the back of his throat. He leaned unquestioningly into the kiss, sensed the peace of it, kissed and touched warm skin, touched a face, cradled the face, cheeks, between his hands. 

The Force did not want to release him yet. He did not want to go. 

He wanted to keep touching the mouth with his mouth. He wanted to cry out---the Force had never felt like this, trembling, on the verge of cracking---he---his skin was a shell and he would crack open and become---

Qui-Gon moaned. He felt dazed, content, like the act of opening his eyes was beyond comprehension, something completely outside his desires or abilities. He could drift along the eddies of the Force, this warmth and this kiss, while the Universe went on without him. 

Too soon he became aware of the recycled Temple air on his skin. Footsteps passing somewhere, perhaps in the corridor. 

And then his eyes _did_ open, to see Obi-Wan, his eyes and freckles and his parted mouth, right in front of him. 

Qui-Gon realized his hands were clutching Obi-Wan’s arms, and they were very nearly embracing on the meditation rug. Where they had been kissing.

Obi-Wan broke away first, sitting back on his hands, cheeks flushed. 

Qui-Gon’s heart thundered in his ears. “I---I don’t….” Had he initiated this...whatever this was? He couldn’t remember anything between the beginning of the meditation and waking with his mouth on Obi-Wan’s. He had never experienced such a phenomenon in his life, not even with Tahl.

“Well, that was...unexpected,” Obi-Wan said, sounding shaken. 

Qui-Gon cleared his throat. “Obi-Wan, I have no idea...I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.”

“Neither do I.” Obi-Wan’s lips gleamed. He wiped them with the corner of his sleeve. 

“I’ll get us some tea.” Qui-Gon offered, climbing gracelessly to his feet and taking a heavy first step towards the kitchen. Force if he didn’t feel a little drunk, but also desperate for Obi-Wan to stay. He could not leave things so confusing and unsettled. The Council could call Obi-Wan away on another mission tomorrow, for weeks or months. 

The tea in the kettle was still warm enough. He took two teacups down from the cupboard and poured, noticing the way his hands trembled. 

Obi-Wan had moved to the couch, this time sitting curled in on himself, as if he was chilled. 

Qui-Gon gave him the tea. He wondered if he should sit next to him, but thought better of it. He returned to his chair and looked down at the dark depths of the tea, studying the way the light caught the surface, because he didn’t want to look at Obi-Wan. He felt an awful, burning shame inside, and he knew he must have reached for his former Padawan subconsciously, an old man aching to be close to someone, some unrecognized need in himself latching on to Obi-Wan’s Light in the Force. 

“I have been lonely,” Obi-Wan said suddenly. 

He looked at Obi-Wan. He shook his head. Obi-Wan was the type to absorb blame, a natural peacemaker for as long as Qui-Gon had known him. But Qui-Gon would not have it. “No,” it came out harsher than he intended, “Obi-Wan, this is not your fault.” 

“Must it be someone’s fault?”

Qui-Gon set aside his cup without taking a drink. He watched the rain slide down the window. He imagined himself standing on the balcony with his arms outstretched, letting the sky pour down on him. “It must not be yours,” he said softly. “And I have been lonely, too.” Perhaps the strange turn the evening had taken emboldened him to speak freely, as though he was living in the warped reality of a dream, a reality without consequence. “I miss you in a way that I cannot fathom sometimes. Most of the time. I am a selfish man. I feel you were taken from me just as we were truly understanding each other. I resent that I can only know you at a distance now, planets apart. And what will happen when Anakin is old enough to go on missions? It is likely that whenever you happen to be back on Coruscant, I will be away. And I know...I know this is the way of things. But I wish it wasn’t.”

He was selfish but he was also a hypocrite, for had he not been the one to push Obi-Wan’s Knighthood that fateful day before the Council? And then absolved himself with the knowledge that Obi-Wan was ready long before the Naboo mission, except that Qui-Gon had not wanted to acknowledge it, or relinquish him to the pitiless Universe? 

Obi-Wan was looking at him. “It does not have to be. It’s not what I want either, Qui-Gon.”

Hearing his name spoken, his actual name, rather than ‘Master’, sent an odd frisson through him. He felt everything too acutely: the rain, the chair, the awkward way he was holding his body, the weight of Obi-Wan’s gray eyes. “Will you stay then?” He wasn’t sure what he was saying, which wasn’t a good enough reason for him to stop. “For tonight?”

Maybe Obi-Wan was merely humoring his old Master, aside from being exhausted, but he smiled softly. “Yes. Of course.”

……..

Despite Obi-Wan’s protests, Qui-Gon insisted he take the large bed in his private quarters. He didn’t possess the archaeological skill to dig Anakin’s small bed out from the debris, and the couch was comfortable enough. 

They said good night to each other. Qui-Gon encouraged him to sleep as long as he needed. Obi-Wan thanked him, and touched Qui-Gon’s elbow before walking into the bedroom.

Qui-Gon used the fresher, washing his face with cold water. He avoided his eyes in the mirror, wary of what he might glimpse there. He tried to think of other, safe things, like how Anakin was faring on his trip, if he should arrange a training session for the boy with Master Drallig when he returned. But that moment of waking to Obi-Wan’s lips buzzed in his skull. He didn’t understand how it had happened, and surely not _why_. 

What if Obi-Wan had---

He locked those musings away before they could materialize and shored up his mental shields. He went to the kitchen for water. He thought of what Obi-Wan had said earlier, though in jest, catching the rain in their mouths; suddenly he was thirsty.

Qui-Gon crossed to the balcony, stepping over the meditation mat, and opened the sliding door. The night’s air was bracing. He saw the nocturnal lights of the city, glowing with all the desperation and avarice and earnestness and helplessness and joy of the people clustered in the city. For a moment he was overwhelmed, filled over with it, and he put his head back and opened his mouth. Cool droplets hit him, sliding across his temples and soaking his hair. He felt the rainwater gather at the back of his tongue, and he held it there, not swallowing, not breathing. 

He closed his eyes.

The lights glowed there too, pockets of illumination, more and more, until there was no darkness, and the water of the Force seeped through his pores. He could have floated away.

……..

Sometime later, he peeled off his wet clothes and wrung out his hair in the kitchen sink. His bare skin dried while he leaned on the counter, just blinking.

It was when he turned to finally collapse on the couch that he noticed the square of dim light beyond the kitchen. 

Obi-Wan had not closed the door.

Panic squeezed his throat. Had he left, finding his opportunity to slip out so as to avoid another awkward encounter? And what could Qui-Gon do, follow him to his Knight’s quarters, after what he had done during their meditation? He could not blame Obi-Wan at all if had run.

Nor could he go to sleep without knowing. He grabbed the threadbare throw from the couch and wrapped it around his shoulders, and walked slowly towards the light.


End file.
